A Midnight Stroll
by starrysummernights
Summary: John crept down the cold corridors, moonlight splashing in at the windows illuminating his way. He longingly thought of his dormitory six floors away, a fire in the hearth, warm feet and hands as he buried beneath warm sheets. Something better was waiting for him at the end of his nocturnal journey, though, and so John pressed forward. Winterlock Gift Exchange for Fullcirclefan.


**My first foray into writing Potterlock, a gift for Fullcirclefan. Herein lies a sample of how my teenlock will (eventually) turn out. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

John silently crept down the darkened, cold corridors, moonlight splashing in at the windows illuminating his way. He was still dressed in his black day robes which were pulled tight around him against the chill of the castle at night during the winter. He longingly thought of his dormitory six floors away, a fire in the hearth, warm feet and hands as he buried beneath warm sheets. Peace and sleep and dreams.

Something better was waiting for him at the end of his nocturnal journey, though, and so John pressed forward, able to see his own breath in the air as he shivered his way down another hallway.

Trust Sherlock to want to meet at the most godsawful hour of night, in the darkest, coldest hallway imaginable, John grumbled to himself, skirting a patch of moonlight, keeping to the shadows. He knew none of the professors patrolled the corridors this time of night, but Filch and Mrs. Norris were an ever present danger. He felt it best to err on the side of caution.

He'd just turned the corner into the long hallway where the Charms classroom was located, when slim, pale hands shot out from behind a statue and, latching tenaciously onto John's robes, roughly pulled him into the shadows.

A scream was in his throat, his heart was slamming in his chest, and John's wand was already in his hand, ready to defend himself against whatever entity was attacking him- when those pale hands released him and a warm, familiar scent enveloped him in the small space.

"Ssshhh. It's me, you idiot. Who else would it be?" Sherlock asked, frowning down at John's wand as it pushed threateningly against his chest.

John drew in a deep, offended breath, suddenly feeling like a complete moron for panicking and getting scared over nothing.

"You _prick_! Couldn't you have just, I don't know-_told me where you were_? You didn't have to go grabbing me-"

"Shut up. It was quick." Sherlock replied before, ignoring John's wand jutting into his chest (John was still seriously thinking of hexing him), he swooped down and pressed his cold lips against John's equally cold, slightly chapped ones.

John moaned softly, his anger evaporating under the assault, and he clutched at Sherlock's robes, dragging him closer and snogging him back, not willing to miss this opportunity. It'd been weeks since he and Sherlock had got a chance to be together, Sherlock having gone to his own home in London over the Christmas break, lamenting the fact he couldn't go with John to his home. John had missed Sherlock the entire time and apparently his boyfriend had as well, judging by the large amount of owls he'd sent John over the break.

Then that night, their first night back at Hogwarts, John had found a folded note on his pillow, instructing him exactly where to meet Sherlock. Urgently.

The "urgently" had been underlined. Twice.

When Sherlock's tongue flicked against John's lips, shockingly warm and wet, John shuddered and couldn't remember what he'd been mad at Sherlock about in the first place. He threaded his fingers through Sherlock's impossible, untamed curls and deepened their kiss, licking into Sherlock's mouth to tangle his tongue with his own.

Sherlock eagerly surged forward, forcing John back until he was pressed against the cold stone wall, spine arching away from the icy chill that seeped through his multiple layers of clothing as if they weren't even there. The arch inadvertently pressed his body against Sherlock's in a warm line and John could feel the taller boy's cock against his hip, already hard and straining against the fabric of his trousers. John broke their kiss, grinning cheekily and thrust up against the hardness.

"Hello. What's this?" He teased, just to see Sherlock get a bit flustered, all angry and blushing. Even if John couldn't _see_ the blush in the dark, he could feel Sherlock's cheeks heat up beneath his hands and that…that shouldn't have been a turn on.

Just as it shouldn't be a turn-on for John when Sherlock absently ruffled his hair when they were doing research in the library. When he caught Sherlock staring at him and, in the seconds before the Ravenclaw looked away, he blushed. When Sherlock, still hesitant about their relationship in public, brushed, brushed, brushed their fingers together again and again and again as they walked until John took the hint and grabbed his hand. When Sherlock tried and failed to suppress his smile when John did that. When Sherlock turned to him, eyes wide in surprise and hair all in disarray when whatever new spell he'd been working on literally blew up in his face.

It maybe _shouldn't_ be a turn-on. But it was.

"Shut up." Sherlock hissed, embarrassed at his obvious, swift arousal, twisting a bit trying to get away- but John grabbed his hips and held on, forcing them together, his stomach clenching in sudden arousal at the way Sherlock's breath stuttered out, his head drooping forward to rest against John's shoulder, hips moving restlessly as he sought more friction against John. John wasn't completely hard- yet- but he was getting there and having Sherlock, wantonly moaning and thrusting against him with the barest hint of desperation had him rock hard in moments.

"Missed you." John heard Sherlock mutter against his neck, warm lips latching onto the sensitive skin there and sucking, pulling John's skin into his mouth and scraping his teeth playfully over it before soothing the tantalizing sting with his tongue.

"Mmm." John cradled the back of Sherlock's head, urging, wanting more. "Missed you too- _oh, god_!" He gasped at a sharp bite to the skin just beneath his ear, Sherlock sucking a mark high on his neck where no one would be able to miss it.

"Doesn't mean you…_unnff_…have to g-go marking me up." John protested, sounding feeble to even his own ears but it was decidedly hard being steady when one had almost six foot of gorgeous, gyrating, genius in their arms.

The next few minutes passed in a breathless flurry of lips, tongues, hands and half-formed attempts of each other's names. Sherlock kissed like sin, tempting and dark and dangerous, and John briefly nipped at his lower lip before letting Sherlock plunder his mouth all he wanted. It was flattering, in a way. He'd been the one to teach Sherlock to kiss, after all. Their first few attempts had been stilted and awkward with clicking teeth and bumped noses and Sherlock blushing and huffing and turning away in frustration because he was embarrassed that he wasn't getting something so important right.

John had teased him, calmed him down, coaxed him to try again, to relax and let him lead for a change. And it'd gone fine. More than fine. Sherlock had been a quick study and after that-

"_Ah_!" John's hips stuttered forward as Sherlock sucked his tongue into his mouth, caressing it with his own before applying pressure, sucking it with a skill that went straight to John's cock. He felt as if his eyes would roll back in his head at the sensation and he groped Sherlock's arse, pressing him closer, frotting against the taller boy with more purpose-

A distant noise made them both freeze, Sherlock releasing John's tongue and cocking his head to listen. Their frantic, panting breaths were loud in the absolute silence of the castle asleep all around them. They strained their ears, each listening for the sound of approaching footsteps or, worse, the almost silent pad of Mrs. Norris stalking near. John could barely hear over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears and he hoped Sherlock was doing a better job of listening.

Finally, after endless minutes had passed, the danger seemed nonexistent and Sherlock turned to John, bumping their noses together, and breathed against his ear.

"Should we take this to a classroom, perhaps? It would be more…private." His voice was dark, suggestive.

John swallowed against the sudden fresh wave of arousal and licked his lips. They shouldn't. They should both be in bed. It was past midnight. They could get caught.

Sherlock's tongue snaked its way out, traced the rim of John's ear. Teeth nibbled at John's earlobe and the barest of growls reverberated in his ear.

"Lead the way."


End file.
